


Patchwork Homemaking

by hapakitsune



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Bromance, Friendship, Gen, Interior Decorating, Nesting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 21:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hapakitsune/pseuds/hapakitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Neal fills his empty house with furniture, noise, his team, his family, and memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patchwork Homemaking

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching the [NHL 36](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QW6h-YFvgsM) on James Neal and was struck by his sad, empty house that he lives in all alone. (WITH HIS FRIDGE FULL OF BEER AND GATORADE.) The conclusion was that he needs to spruce up his house and, also, he may need a girlfriend.

"Okay then," Stammer says, voice a little crackly through the Skype connection. "Show me the digs."

"I'll give you the grand virtual tour," says James, climbing off his beanbag that he's been using while he tries to find a couch he likes. "Try to contain your excitement."

"It'll be a challenge," Stammer says, rolling his eyes. James laughs and flips the laptop around his hands to try to aim his webcam at the living room. "Oh, that's a great view of your keyboard."

"Fuck off, this is hard." James readjusts the laptop and checks the screen. "Okay. So this is the living room –"

"Where the hell's your couch?" Stammer asks.

"Hey, I'm giving the tour here," James says. "Now hush."

"Okay," Stammer says, "jeez."

James takes his laptop around the kitchen, rolling his eyes when Stammer says, "Ahh, Martin's domain," and shows him the still-empty guest room and his mostly empty bedroom. Currently, it's home to a huge bed, a giant pile of boxes, and his clothes thrown sort of haphazardly around, only half of them having made it into the closet. 

"And this," James says, "is where the magic happens."

"This is just sad," Stammer says.

James turns his computer around and frowns at the screen. "What?"

"You live like, I don't know, like you're ready to bolt at any moment." Stammer raises his eyebrows. "Something you haven't told me?"

James sighs and sits down on his bed. "No, I just –" He shrugs. "I'm hedging my bets."

"Are you serious?" Stammer asks. "I've seen your stats, you and Malkin have been doing great."

"You can never be too careful," Neal says. 

"Buy some fucking furniture," Stammer says. "And unpack something, jeez, it looks like a frat in there."

"At least I don't have a pyramid of beer cans," James says. 

"Small blessings," says Stammer. "Unpack, for God's sake, don't make me call your mother."

"Jesus, okay, nag," James says, and he disconnects after mocking Stammer's stubble, as he can't let that slide, and takes a look at his pile of boxes. "Okay," he says, and promptly does absolutely nothing about them. 

 

James has managed to unpack his (almost never used) kitchen utensils by the time Paul comes by to check out his new place. "Not bad," Paul says, nodding thoughtfully as he walks around the place. "A little bare, though – what is this, an asylum?"

"Sorry I don't have your flair for home-decorating," James says. "I wouldn't pretend that I have your expertise."

Paul rolls his eyes. "I don't expect you to be an expert, you loser, I just think it would be nice for you to have, you know, chairs."

"I have chairs!" James says, pointing. 

"Two," Paul says. "And one is about to fall apart."

James has to admit he has a point. "I picked it up at a garage sale," he says. 

"Ugh," Paul says, and James really does not appreciate his judgmental stare. "At least you have kitchen stuff. That you never use, I'm sure."

"I made, um," James says, "toast."

"Yeah, toast," Paul says. "Okay, that's it, we're going to find you some stuff for your kitchen. _Like a table_."

They go to Bed, Bath and Beyond, Paul muttering under his breath the entire time, and they pick James up a table, some chairs, and a few bar stools. James pays after swearing loudly at the price, and they lug it all back to James's house. 

"Okay," James says once they have the boxes in his kitchen, "you realize that we have to put this shit together now, right?"

"Yes," Paul says grimly. "Get out your hammer."

 

"I can't believe you don't have a hammer," Paul bitches on the way to the hardware store. 

"Shut up, we'll have one soon," says James.

 

So James has a kitchen table and chairs and bar stools so that people who come over have a place to actually sit. A few weekends after the kitchen table incident, Paul drags him out again, this time to get a couch. They end up also getting a television and James finally gets around to unpacking his games and movies. Together, they break in the new furniture by cracking open a couple of beers – Paul nearly has another fit when he sees the state of James's fridge – and play some Left 4 Dead until Paul yawns and announces that he has to go home. 

After he leaves, James makes a vague attempt at cleaning up, throwing their cans into a plastic bag and tying it up on the counter. He turns and looks at his living room, hands on his hips, and nods, satisfied. It's actually beginning to look a bit like a home. 

His mother, however, does not agree. 

"James," she says disapprovingly when she arrives from Ontario, his father and middle brother in tow. "Look at this place!"

James thinks that, all things considered, his house really doesn't look as bad as it could. "What?" he asks, looking around.

"This place is depressing," Peter says, sitting down on one of Jame's stools. 

"I have a couch!" James protests. "And a TV!"

"That does not make this place a home," she says disapprovingly, and James sighs because she's kind of right. He spends the time he's not at the rink at Paul's or out with the guys from the team. He mostly comes home to eat take-out and play video games or, occasionally, bring back a girl, although that hasn't been happening so much recently. He blames the fact that his hair has been unusually flat lately. 

"I don't know what you want," he says helplessly. 

Three days after his family goes back to Ontario, he gets a box full of old photos in nice frames and on top is a note from his mother that says, _Find a good place to put these_.

The next morning, James stomps through the snow over to Paul's house, bangs on the door until Paul answers, looking crabby and tired, and says, "Come help me put pictures up."

"Fuck you," Paul says, and he tries to close the door on him. James shoves his foot into the doorframe and swears when the foot closes on him. "Jesus, James, are you trying to get me kicked off the team?" Paul demands. "They'll kill me if I break your foot, what are you doing?"

James just stares at him until Paul groans. "Fine, let me make some coffee first," Paul says. "You can come in, I guess. Asshole," he adds grumpily.

"Thanks, man," James says cheerfully, following Paul inside. 

"You're such a little shit," Paul says, but he sounds fond, and he gives James a mug of coffee once it's brewed, so James figures they're all right.

They spend the rest of the morning hanging pictures all over James's walls, bitching at each other about how crooked they are. Paul actually rips the hammer out of James's hand at one point and forbids him from hanging any more pictures because, "You aren't leaving enough space, it's going to be like a wall of eyes staring at you."

"Maybe I like that," James says grumpily. 

"Please, you're not that kinky," says Paul.

"I could be!" James says.

Paul rolls his eyes and doesn't dignify that with a response. James doesn't really blame him. 

At practice later that week, Paul is talking about the home decorating adventure while cheerfully mocking James, because it's always open season for mocking James, and Geno turns and says, "House ready now?"

"What do you mean?" James asks, unsure if he's missing something. 

"Sid say, don't throw house warm party until house is ready," Geno explains. Sidney rolls his eyes, but laughs a little. "What?"

"I just told you that because it's polite to _ask_ someone before you throw a house-warming party," Sidney says. 

Geno snorts. "Neal too young."

"I'm a _year younger_ than you," Neal says. 

"Not in here," Geno says, tapping his head. "So, party?"

"Sure," James says, and he makes a note to stock up on vodka. 

Of course, when they actually have the party, Geno scoffs at Jame's vodka and says, "This bad vodka for little girls," and produces two bottles with Russian labels. 

"Oh god," Sidney says from behind Geno. 

"Cheer up, Sid," Geno says, slinging an arm around his shoulder. "I not make you drink vodka. You have bad beer."

Sidney wrinkles his nose at James, but lets Geno drag him off towards the couch. Jordy clomps up a few moments later, carrying a case of the "bad beer" and trailing behind him is Flower and Tanger. 

"All right!" Flower cheers when he comes in. "We will warm James's house, eh?"

Slowly, the rest of the team trickles in, cheerfully chirping James's decorations, his furniture, his still-empty fridge. James stops trying to defend his place after Sidney frowns and says, "It's...nice, I guess," and decides that they're all wrong, because his place is awesome. 

Someone breaks out James's Xbox and starts up a game of NHL 12, because apparently they don't get enough of hockey during the day, and James sits at his kitchen bar with Flower's fiancée, who had showed up with food a little after him. 

"I knew you boys wouldn't think about feeding yourselves," Véronique explains, setting out the pizzas. Jordy swoops in before she has even finished the sentence and steals two slices of the Hawaiian. She raises her eyebrows at James, as if to say, _See?_

"Thanks, Véronique!" Jordy says through a mouthful of pizza. 

"Thank you, _ma cherie_ ," Flower tosses back over his shoulder before swearing at Tanger in French and causing Véronique to exclaim, "Marc!"

"Sorry," he says guiltily. 

Some of the other girlfriends and wives show up later, returning from work or from leaving kids with a babysitter. James is a little worried that he's going to somehow get in trouble for violating a fire code or something, but they're not being too loud so at least the neighbors won't call the cops on him (although he wouldn't put it past Paul to try).

By the end of the night, Geno is pretty spectacularly drunk and giggly, leaning into Sidney and slipping into Russian every third word. Sidney, for his part, is bearing it with good grace although he's flushed a little and can't seem to stop smiling. Duper is long gone, as are Flower and Véronique. Jordy had left after having a very sappy conversation with his own girlfriend while standing in the middle of James's kitchen, apparently too drunk to remember that he probably shouldn't do that in front of the guys.

Paul throws the last of the pizza boxes and says, "Well, I think your house is sufficiently warmed, don't you?" and James looks around, at the unmistakable signs that a Penguins party had happened (one of Niskie's hats abandoned on the floor, just like always, scuffs on his new furniture) and has to agree. 

"Thanks for coming," James calls after Brooksie and TK as they trail out. "Good to drive?"

"I'm being responsible tonight," Brooksie calls back, jingling his keys, and TK gives James thumbs up. 

James shakes his head and ducks back inside just as Paul is pulling on his coat. "Hey," he says, reaching out to punch Paul's shoulder. "I should have said thanks. For helping me out with this place."

Paul shrugs. "It's cool, man," he says easily. "If you need help clearing those doofuses out in the morning, just come get me," he adds, jerking his head towards the couch. 

James turns to see Sidney trying to pull Geno upright. Geno is no help at all, casually draping himself along Sidney's side and giggling whenever Sidney tries to make him stand. James rolls his eyes and goes to help, getting his shoulder under one of Geno's arms. 

"Okay, big guy," he says, "we're getting you home."

"Okay!" Geno says cheerfully, grinning a little blearily at James. 

They pour Geno into the passenger seat of Sidney's car. James eyes him dubiously and wonders how much people will kill him if it gets out that Evgeni Malkin drank himself to an early grave at his house. Sidney climbs into his car and gives James a small smile. 

"Thanks for the party," Sidney says. "For – indulging him." He waves his arm as if to encompass the whole party.

"It was fun," James assures him. "You're good for getting him home?"

"We'll be fine," Sidney says. He flashes James a quick smile and starts the car. James backs away and waves as Sidney pulls out of the driveway before returning inside to his slightly battered, mildly scuffed house. 

Paul does come and help him clean up the next morning, but it's hard to erase the signs of living and people from the house, and James finds that he doesn't mind. It's probably what his mom meant when she said that furniture wasn't what made a house a home.

He's having life lessons all over the place these days, it seems like. 

 

Stammer comes to visit during the summer on his way back down to Florida, and claps sarcastically when he sees James's house. "Nice, Jim," he says, looking around. "It looks much better now than last time we talked."

"So judgmental," says James. "Want the real tour this time?"

So James shows Stammer the house, from the living room where he has still not managed to put away the explosion of video game paraphernalia from the house warming party, to the kitchen where Paul's unmistakable presence can be detected in the stupid fancy coffee he buys and the pan he had brought over because it was, according to him, pathetic that a grown man didn't own one. James is proud, at least, that his refrigerator is still all beer and Gatorade, because that's who he is, man, and he offers Stammer one out of a sense of duty. 

They retreat into the bedroom with beer, where Stammer sits on the edge of James's bed and eyes the dwindling pile of boxes. "So you're still not done unpacking?"

James shrugs and says, "Are you ever really done?" which he doesn't mean to sound as weirdly existential as it does, and Stammer laughs at him openly. 

"Okay, Nietzsche," he says. He shakes his head after a moment and says, "You really need a girlfriend or something."

"You volunteering?" James asks wearily, because it isn't like he doesn't have this conversation with his mother at least once a week. 

"Get your boxes unpacked and we'll discuss it," Stammer says easily, and James laughs, tilting backwards. "Talk to Paul first, though, I don't want to have to fight for your honor."

"Paul would just tell you to have me," James says. 

"In that case," Stammer says, and he clinks his beer against James's. "Here's to our glorious future together. And to your house."

James grins and drinks.


End file.
